


Better The Devil You Know

by LokiLover89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Rape, Torture, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiLover89/pseuds/LokiLover89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In between the scalping and the rack and being used as the devils personal hand puppet it had all become almost bearable. But Sam should have known better than to think Lucifer would just stop there because the devil had done something much worse, something that Sam would never be able to overcome. He had made it impossible for him to ever look Dean in the eye again without wishing he was back in the pit where it was clear he belonged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life One The Edge Of A Blade

**Author's Note:**

> I feel I should warn you before we start that this story contains a hell of a lot graph description of torture. Also it contains rape, rape whilst being tortured, incest, verbal abuse, knife and blood play and one hell of a lot of angst and self hate.
> 
> Also I do not own any rights to any of these characters; this is a complete work of fiction. A friend asked me to do this one night, we where both extremely drunk and she thinks I will not be able to see this through to the end. I have to say that at the moment I think I am doing quite well but we shall see.
> 
> Please do not hate me for this and as always your comments are always welcome. Thank you for your time and may Cas the stand in king of heaven not kill you because he can’t understand your sarcasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I feel I should warn you before we start that this story contains a hell of a lot graph description of torture. This is likely to cause distress to a lot of. Also it contains rape, rape whilst being tortured, incest, verbal abuse, knife and blood play and one hell of a lot of angst and self hate.
> 
> Also I do not own any rights to any of these characters; this is a complete work of fiction. 
> 
> Please do not hate me for this and as always your comments are always welcome.

Sam’s heart was pounding in his chest, his breathing laboured as he pressed himself back into the rough sheets that covered the cheap motel bed that he had collapsed onto just over an hour ago. His skin burned cold, itching as the ghost of a touch ever so slowly pealed the flesh from muscle and bone, all the while that soft monotone voice whispering gentle encouragements and promises of more to come.

Sam could feel cool breath fanning out across his hot ear as a slick tongue snuck out to lick the dried blood that clung to the side of his abused and mangled face. Images of dark, cavernous rooms filled with silver meat hooks that dangled from an unseen ceiling, blood and flesh and gore hanging from them. A constant reminder of what had happened and a silent promise of what was yet to come.

Slamming his eyes shut even tighter Sam fisted the sheets, desperately trying not to make a sound that would alert his brother to what was happening just an arm’s length away from him. He didn’t want to wake Dean, didn’t want to explain to him what it was that plagued Sam’s mind. 

Rolling onto his front Sam buried his face into the pillow willing his hallucinations away. For that was all they were. They were just his brain trying to process his long buried memories of his time in Hell. He knew they weren’t real, knew he wasn’t back there but it didn’t stop him from feeling it all again as if he was living it once more.

Groaning in frustration Sam’s eyes shot open, his sight adjusting to the darkness abnormally quick for a human but a little too slow for a hunter. Out of habit Sam Instantly sought out Dean’s sleeping form, transfixed as his brother’s chest rose and fell, his pale pink lips parted slightly letting his gentle breath escape. 

He looked so young when he slept, so full of life and free of worry, perfectly at ease. Guilt filled Sam instantly, turning his stomach and filling him to the brim with self hate. He knew he was responsible for more that his fare share of all the stress and worry and pain that Dean had been through in his life and he had been less then gracious in return. 

Nine times out of ten he had been a bad brother, acted like a spoilt little brat and sure Dean could take some of the blame for that. He had spoilt Sam whenever he could when they were younger, always putting Sam’s needs before his and all Sam managed to do was constantly throw it back in his face. Always fucking up one way or another. Always adding to Dean’s already stressed life. 

Annoyed at his incapability to let things go Sam rolled back onto his back, a large callous hand coming up to rub at his tired eyes. 

As soon as his eyes slipped closed he was assaulted by the memory of hungry mouths and sharp teeth slowly ripping away the meat from his bones, his screams echoing around the infinite space as Lucifer’s laughter reverberated in his ears, enjoying Sam’s torment.

A strangled cry escaped from between Sam’s dry and cracked lips as his mind began to slip, his grasp on now and then fading as he lost himself to the sensation of pain like no other he had known before.

~*~

His time in Hell could be called many things but pleasant wasn’t one of them. He had spent so long trussed up and exposed, days, weeks, months, years even. Forced to endure whatever sick, depraved, excruciatingly painful thing that Lucifer or Michael could come up with. 

Sometimes they would forget he was even there, get so caught up in their own argument that everything else would just fade away. Sam hated those moments. 

It was in those moments that it became easy for Sam to see the similarities between himself and Lucifer as well as Dean and Michael. Everything from the way they spoke to one another to the way they held themselves. 

It was so easy for Sam to see themselves in the two angels that it made Sam glad that Dean wasn’t around to draw the same conclusions because it was just plain heart breaking to think that they could end up at each other’s throats like that, could truly hate each other the way the angels did.

More often than not though it was just him and Lucifer, all day and all night till something caught his eyes in a far off corner and the fallen angel would scuttle off only to return with a shaper blade and a new idea that would make Sam scream louder than he had before.

It went on like this for how long Sam didn’t quite know, it was hard to keep track of time in the pit, until Sam had come to expect the pain. Welcome it almost. Till Lucifer’s words had sunk deep enough that they had started to stick. Until Sam need the pain because surly he deserved it.

It had been one of those days when distraction had made its self known in the form of Michael and almost instantly they had gone for one another, leaving Sam to hang from the cavernous roof, red hot hooks having been forced through the meat of his shoulders and the flesh of his wrists. Vast dried rivers of blood that covered his body the only remains of Lucifer's previous session though Sam could still feel the cool blade as Lucifer had traced idle patterns on his stomach with the tip before shoving the six inch blade deep into his side, pulling it out slowly and thrusting it back in as he made obscene comments about how pliant Sam’s body was under his loving touch.

But now he hangs forgotten like an abandoned toy after it had lost its Christmas charm. 

The pain was fading fast, the ache in his shoulder now nothing more than a dull throb. This part Sam was used to. Lucifer called it his calling off period, time for his body to heal from their last ‘play session’, though the archangel often used the time to taunt his captive with wicked words and gentle caresses. Promising to love him like all others had failed to, even his brother. 

Sam knew it was all lies, everything that came from the Devils mouth was a trick designed to pull you in and under but it didn’t stop his words from sticking. Didn’t stop Sam from starting to believe that Lucifer cared but not most. No one cared more about him than Dean. 

Michael and Lucifer’s heated words filled Sam’s mind as the fought in a far off corner, sounding far too much like an argument he and Dean had had just before he left for Stanford. 

As soon as the thought entered his mind the scene in front of him began to shift, the vast cave being replaced by a cheap crappy motel in the middle of God knows where. It was no longer Lucifer and Michael but a much younger Sam and Dean standing at either sides of the small room, faces red, fists clenched at their sides as they yelled accusations at one another. 

Dean had always known how to cut Sam the deepest and he never pulled a punch, even if he knew he would regret it afterwards. Dean was normally pretty good at keeping his true feelings tucked away letting them simmer and fester till they were too much for him to contain and in the heat of the moment, the rush of an argument that had been a long time coming, everything had just come flooding out.

Sam was a bad brother, a worse son. An ungrateful, spoilt, selfish, little brat. Didn’t he care? Didn’t he want to get the thing that had killed mum? How could he just up and abandon his family like that, after everything Dean had done for him, sacrificed for him? Was he that much of a coward?

As Dean’s words had washed over him, sinking in and wrapping around him Sam had become more and more angry, his body shaking, fists tightening so much that his knuckles had gone white and his nails started to dig into his palm, cutting through the soft flesh.

Sam could play this game as well, he knew his brother better than anyone, hell he probably knew him a lot better than Dean thought he did. He called him names; things he knew would feel like little stabs in Dean’s heart. Said sorry he couldn’t be dads perfect little solider boy like Dean was. Told Dean he was pathetic that he needed to follow the orders of an obsessive, absent, crazy old man who didn’t want sons just bodies for his sad little army that would undoubtedly get them killed long before they found the monster they were hunting. 

And in his worst moment, a moment he was almost 100% certain that Dean still hadn’t forgiven him for he had said what was it to him if they found the demon? He had never known their mother, couldn’t even remember her so why should he give a fuck if they avenged her death or not? 

In the stunned and horrified silence that had followed afterwards Sam had felt his whole world shatter. He knew no matter what he said or did, even if he begged for forgiveness there was no way he could undo what he had just done. 

With Dean’s piercing gaze never leaving him Sam had grabbed his duffle bag off the bed and the bus tickets that had started this whole argument before wordlessly turning and heading out the door. He never looked back and Dean didn’t try and stop him, not this time. 

Clenching his fists Sam desperately tried to push the memories away, welcoming the stab of pain the action cased as his muscles tightened pulling against the hooks that held him in place. 

He didn’t want to remember how much of a let-down he was to Dean, didn’t want to think about Dean full stop. He needed a distraction and before he could really process what it was he was doing his cracked and dry lips where parting and a soft, broken “please” was clawing its way free of his raw and scream abused throat.

Instantly everything went quite, the constant roar of the two angel’s disappearing. Raising his head to look was an effort that Sam wasn’t expecting, his eye lids heavy as he willed them open. They were alone again, just the two of the now, just how Sam liked it. No angelic reminder of Dean hovering around to torment him, to split his heart in two. 

Lucifer’s eyes where full of humour and excitement, a wicked smile on his lips that was just full of promises. “Sorry Sammy what was that? Couldn’t quite here you all the way over here”. His voice was soft and polite like he was talking to a child and not a grown man. A man, who a few hours ago Lucifer had had his fingers deep inside his eye sockets, yanking Sam’s eyes free of his skull. 

Locking his gaze with Lucifer’s, Sam took a deep unnecessary breath, mentally trying to prepare himself for the onslaught of pain and torment that he was willingly asking for. “Please”. This time it come out stronger, less pleading more demanding. The Devils answering chuckle was enough to send shivers of dread down Sam’s spine. What was he thinking provoking Lucifer of all people? He didn’t need any more encouragement, another opportunity to inflict more suffering then he already had planned. He should have just kept his mouth shut and welcomed the break that he had been given. 

Sam couldn’t do anything else but watch as Lucifer slowly approached, his hands coming up to roll up the sleeves of his button up shirt, his eyes hungrily roaming over Sam’s body as if he couldn’t decide what to do first, witch in all reality was probably true. 

There were probably a hundred and one different things going through Lucifer’s mind that he wanted to do to Sam. A hundred and one different things that would make him scream and beg Lucifer to stop but Sam knew that he would never stop.

Sam had asked for it, begged for it even and he knew that that was the moment Lucifer had been waiting for and whatever Lucifer had planned it would be something special, something he had never done before. Something he had been saving for when Sam finally cracked and begged for it like the little whore that Lucifer had taken grate pleaser in telling Sam he was.

All too soon Lucifer was right in front of him, his cold hands pressed firmly against Sam’s naked torso. His head was tilted back slightly so he could look Sam in the eyes as he leaned forward till his lips where once again next to Sam’s ear, his cold breath sending shivers down Sam’s spine as it ghosted over his hot flesh. “Say it again” Lucifer hissed. 

Sam’s head rolled back, his eyes slamming shut as a mix of dread and anticipation filled him. He was scared, he could admit that. Who wouldn’t be? Everything that had come before was going to seem like Disneyland compared to what was going to come next. 

Lucifer’s right hand was rubbing gentle circles into his stomach as his left slowly slid up his chest, his blunt nails catching on Sam’s nipple before coming to rest on his shoulder. Gritting his teeth Sam forced out a rough, whinnying “please”, hoping to an absent God that it would be the last time he would have to. 

Lucifer’s soft laughter drew him back to the man who was practically pressed against his front. “Oh Sammy you have no idea how much I have wanted to hear you say that”. As he spoke Lucifer’s grip on Sam’s shoulder tightened till his nails where digging into his flesh, fresh trickles of blood running down his shoulder blade to join the dried pools from where he had been held down and the meat hooks forced through his shoulders.

But that brief pain was chased away as the hand that had been gently caressing his stomach curled into a fist and pushed hard through his weak flesh and into his kidney. The scream that tore its self from between Sam’s lips echoed for what seemed like forever around the vast space, so loud and full of pain that he almost missed the pleasure filled moan that tickled the hair behind his ear. “You’re so warm Sammy. Always so warm for me”.

A gurgled cry escaped from between Sam’s lips as Lucifer pushed his hand deeper and up, forcing Sam’s warm blood to come gushing out from between his lips and dribble down his chin, trickling down his chest to join the torrent that was flowing from the hole in his stomach and seeping down into the waistband of his trousers. 

Oh God it hurt so much, like a shaft of razor sharp ice twisting deep inside him. He could feel every flex of Lucifer’s fingers as he forced his hand higher, pulling himself closer to Sam’s pliant body as more of his arm disappeared deeper inside of Sam. 

Sam’s scream this time was full of pure agony as Lucifer ever so slowly uncurled his fist, his fingers tearing a hole through his lung. His fingers wiggled as he forced them deeper still, his nails scratching away till he came through the other side, his finger tips gently caressing his heart. 

Sam’s breathing was laboured, his eyes screwed tightly shut against the onslaught of pain. If he could get his brain to see past the agony Sam was sure he would be begging for Lucifer to stop, to make it go away. “Oh Sammy, my sweet little Sammy I am going to ruin you” Lucifer purred. 

As his calm voice swirled around Sam Lucifer’s fingers wrapped around his heart, his grip tightening till Sam’s vision started the blur and he could no longer breathe. The last thing Sam saw was Lucifer’s smug smile as he pulled away, his arm slipping free of Sam’s body with relative ease and a wet squelching noise. 

Sam’s blood covered Lucifer’s pale skin all the way up to mid forearm. Sam’s still beating heat clasped tightly in his hand, blood dripping from it to pool at his feet.

Smirking Lucifer raised his hand to his lips, his tongue slipping out to lick the blood from his hand. As he pulled his lips away his grip tightened, crushing the beating organ till it was nothing more than a pile of dust in his hand. And just like that everything went black and Sam was plunged into nothingness.


	2. Keeping It In The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's hell becomes that little bit more real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I feel I should warn you before we start that this story contains a hell of a lot graph description of torture. Also it contains rape, rape whilst being tortured, incest, verbal abuse, knife and blood play and one hell of a lot of angst and self hate.
> 
> Also I do not own any rights to any of these characters; this is a complete work of fiction. This is only half of the original chapter; it turned into a bit of a monster so please I ask you stick with it because I promise the next part is where all the action takes place. It gets really bloody, I mean the stuff gets everywhere and I mean everywhere. 
> 
> Please do not hate me for this and as always your comments are always welcome. Thank you for your time.

When Sam finally woke he was in a small room that looked too much like a Victorian operating theatre to mean anything good. He was strapped down on an old leather operating table, his arms pulled out to the sides and his legs spread wide. Two leather straps were pulled tight across his chest keeping him in place, another across his forehead and three more across both his arms and legs. It didn’t matter how much he struggled he couldn’t move, couldn’t even twist his head. 

The soft sound of Blue Oyster Cult filled the room, floating in through the door that was slightly ajar in the far corner, the words to don’t fear the reaper bouncing of the tiled walls. Frantically Sam’s eyes darted around the room taking in the tray of foreign looking instruments and jars of odd coloured liquids that lined the walls. 

Next to the table he was lead out on was a rusty, blood splattered swivel chair that looked like one you would often find in a dentist or doctors surgery, but what held his attention was the faded, brown leather jacket that had been slung over the back. He knew that jacket, would recognise it anywhere. After all he had spent years fantasising about having one of his own one day, when he was younger. He could remember how soft it had felt under his finger as he clung onto its owner, could recall the scent as he buried his face deep into the collar as his half sleeping form had been carried from the car and carefully placed onto a scratchy motel bed.

Panic started to gnaw at Sam’s insides as his eyes shot from the jacket only to land on a glass tumbler and a half drunk bottle of cheap whiskey that sat innocently on the side. A panicked whimper escaped from between Sam’s lips as he franticly tried to pull himself free, realisation dawning on him like a sharp slap to the face and a swift kick to the gut. 

Deep laughter filled the room and instantly Sam froze, his eyes widening at the familiar sound that he had grown up trying to coax from his brother. “Oh Sammy look at you”. Dean’s chiding voice shot straight to Sam’s heart, squeezing just as tightly as Lucifer’s hand had been however long ago. 

Sam’s eyes screwed shut as he tried to turn his head to the side, away from where he knew Lucifer’s fake Dean to be. No not this, anything but this. Not Dean, not his Dean. Dean’s deep laughter filled the room once more, his footsteps bouncing off the walls as he slowly made his way across the small space. The closer he got the harder Sam’s heart slammed against his chest. He could smell him now, that distinct mix of motor oil and earth mixed with something that could only be described as Dean. 

A shocked gasp tore its self from Sam’s lips, his eyes slamming open as warm, callous hands slid up the inside of his bare thigh. Sam hadn’t even noticed he was without clothing until the moment life worn hands had connected with his soft skin. 

He knew those hands, had felt them so many times on his battle worn skin as Dean had stitched him back together again. His fingers quick but steady as he tugged the needle through the meat of his body, pulling the skin tight together as he wrapped the thread tight to keep it all in place. 

“I’ve been waiting for you Sam”. Sam’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as blunt nails caught on his exposed skin. Desperately he tried to fight the urge to look. It wasn’t Dean, he knew it wasn’t but it didn’t stop him from missing him, from longing to see his smiling face once more. 

“You’re being rude Sammy”. The warmth of Dean’s hand disappeared, his voice dangerously low like it normally got when Sam had done something to irritate him. He could hear the fake Dean moving from between his legs and off to the side, towards the chair and the abandoned jacket. The temptation to look became too much as the chair screeched under the other mans weight and before he could stop himself Sam’s eyes had darted to the side, rolling down to get a better look at the one person he missed the most. 

As soon as his eyes landed on the other man everything stopped. He looked exactly the same as always, his black tee stretched tight across his chest, his short sleeved dark blue button up open. His faded jeans hung low on his hips, the bottoms ripped and frayed from years of being trampled on, his dark boots scuffed. 

Dean was leaning back in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, his feet resting on the edge of the operating table by Sam’s thigh. His arms where flung behind his head and Sam knew from years of watching his brother that he had his fingers laced together, creating a cradle for him to rest his head in. He had that stupid, smug, shit eating grin on that he normally only reserved for when he knew he had got one over on Sam, flashing his bright white teeth. 

Flicking his gaze up Sam’s eyes locked with Dean’s, instantly trapped in the intense green orbs as they stared right back at him. Sam felt like a deer caught in headlights, trapped in his gaze and unable to look away. His skin itched, his heart hammering against his chest as if trying to burst free of its confides. 

Never taking his eyes off of Sam, Dean leaned forward, his arms falling from behind his head, one grasping the back of the chair as the other darted forward towards the tray of glimmering metal instruments. Dean’s smile widened as Sam noticeably began to really panic. Dean looked like the cat that had got the cream and he was going to enjoy licking up every last drop. 

As Dean pulled back Sam caught a glimpse of light bouncing off of something before Dean was leaning back once more, the chair groaning in protest. Sam’s eyes instantly fell to the sharp scalpel in Dean’s hands as he twirled it between his fingers, transfixed as the light bounced off it. Dean’s head had fallen forward slightly, looking up at Sam through his eyelashes almost coyly. “You want it Sammy?”

Dean’s voice shot right through Sam breaking whatever trance he had been in and franticly he tried to shake his head to no avail, his voice abandoning him in his moment of need but Dean wasn’t paying attention, his eyes now firmly fixed on the exposed skin of Sam’s thigh by his booted feet. 

“You always did like knives”. Dean sounded far off, dreamy, as if he was remembering a time long ago. In one quick fluid movement Dean let his legs fall from where they had been resting, his boot clad feet bumping against Sam’s hip as he went and pushed himself off the chair, pushing it back slightly with the force of his pounce. 

In a few quick strides he was back between Sam’s spread legs, his rough hands sliding up the outside of his thighs as he lent over Sam’s bound body. Sam could feel the cool metal against his calf, standing out in stark contrast to the blistering hot hand that held it in place. Dean was hovering just above him, the only part of their bodies that were touching was where the sharp blade was pushed threateningly at his side. He could feel the heat radiating off Dean’s body, his shirt brushing against his abs. 

Squeezing his eyes shut Sam tried not to think about how close Dean was, how real he felt. Dean’s unique sent invading his senses as his warm breath puffed out across his face as he laughed lowly, sounding more like a purr than anything else, his hands shaking slightly against Sam’s sides. 

“Do you remember the first time you picked up a knife Sammy? You where such a klutz, could barely keep hold of it for more than a few seconds before you dropped it. Almost took my toe off that first time”. Dean’s voice was light and teasing like it always was when he was taking the piss out of Sam for something he could barely remember.

Anger started to bubble up inside of Sam the more fake Dean spoke and before he knew it he was straining against his restraints, yelling at the top of his voice for him to shut up, that none of it was real, that he wasn’t really Dean. 

Gasping for breath Sam slumped back against the table, his body hurting from where the leather straps had cut into his skin. He was sure he was bleeding in some places and most defiantly bruised and all it got him was a few micro centimetres closer to his captor, a raw throat and Dean to look like he had just been given the best present of all time and knowing Dean like he did it would undoubtedly involve two smoking hot blonds, preferably twins and preferably with big tits and little to no inhabitations. 

But this wasn’t the real Dean so the real Dean’s fantasies wouldn’t apply here. It was going to be painful and the only one screaming was going to be Sam and it defiantly wouldn’t be in pleasure. Slowly Dean leaned forward till his mouth was next to Sam’s ear, his lips ghosting over the shell as he spoke. “That’s hurtful Sam. After everything I have done for you, sacrificed for you and this is how you thank me?”

Sam hissed in pain as Dean’s free hand grabbed a handful of his dark hair and yanked as hard as he could causing Sam’s head to strain against the thick strap across his forehead, the hard edges cutting deep into his soft skin. 

“I feel real don’t I”. Dean’s voice was loud and angry as he pushed his hard body tight against Sam’s shoving his knee between Sam’s spread legs to raze him that little bit higher so his bottom lip could brush against the top of Sam’s ear. 

Dean sighed in frustration, his breath ruffling Sam’s hair, his chest pushing against Sam’s as he pulled in deep steady breaths. Sam’s eyes where wide, his vision blurring around the edges from the continuous strain being put on his head. He bit down hard on his lips as he tried to suppress the pained groan he could feel welling up inside, unwilling to give the other man the satisfaction of knowing that such a simple act could cause him such distress. 

As quickly as Dean had appeared pressed against him he was gone, his weight vanishing instantly as he flung himself back off the table, his fingers tugging one last time on Sam’s hair before they slipped free. Sighing in relief Sam’s head feel the few inches back onto the operating table, the pressure easing as soon as his head hit the soft leather. 

Taking short shallow breaths Sam kept his gaze on the ceiling. The cracked and pealing plaster was a bright white that seemed to be the sauce of light in the small room yet Sam couldn’t see any lights in his limited line of vision. 

“Why do you always have to do this Sammy?” Dean’s rough hand was rubbing what Sam could only assume was supposed to be soothing circles on his left ankle but where only managing to make him feel more trapped than he already was. 

Dean’s voice was low, filled with hurt and disappointment. Sam had only ever heard it like that a handful of times over the years and that had only ever been when he had done something truly damaging to his brother. It always hut him more to hear that tone of voice than when Dean was screaming names at him, calling him out for the cowered he was. It always meant he had done something that was going to be practically impossible to rectify. 

Sam’s startled, pain filled cry filled the room, echoing off the walls as the sharp scalpel plunged deep into his thigh, slicing through the flesh and muscle like it was butter. Dean’s grip on his ankle tightened, crushing the bone underneath but the pain was nothing but a dull throb compared to the burning agony seeping out from the cool blade lodged deep in his leg and spreading out towards his knee and hip. 

His whole body was pushing against his restraints, head thrown back, back arched as much as was aloud. All his muscles where taught under the strain, pulling his skin tight across his body. Sam could feel his body warm blood running down his thigh like a raging torrent, pooling underneath his helpless body before it started to flow over the edge of the table, the steady drip of his blood hitting the tiled floor sounding like gun fire. 

Dean’s hand had gone back to caressing Sam’s ankle; his fingers slipping back to tickle the underside of his foot. Automatically Sam tried to jerk his foot away from the teasing touch sending a fresh jolt of pain up his leg, the movement causing the scalpel to wiggle inside his leg. 

Dean’s laughter mixed with Sam’s pained groan as the older man moved round to Sam’s side, trailing his hand up the inside of Sam’s injured leg as he went. “Stop being such a whiny little bitch”. Dean’s teasing voice floated down from high above him, reminding Sam of all the times over the years that Dean had taken the piss, called him out for complaining about the simplest of things. 

It was such a familiar, normal thing in a completely volatile, new place that it was making Sam’s head spin as he desperately tried to separate the two. Again and again he chanted in his head that it wasn’t real. Not real, not real. That it wasn’t Dean, not the real Dean any way because he was safe. Safe up on earth, alive, living the life he had promised Sam he would. 

Taking slow deep breaths Sam tried to gain control over his racing heart and block out the pain in his leg, recalling everything his father had ever told him to keep the pain at bay so he could keep on fighting. As his breathing evened out Sam’s body fell back onto the operating table, the straps going slack till they were just resting against his hot skin. His heart was still beating faster than normal but more like he had been for a run than anything else. 

The large pool of blood under the small of his back was cool and uncomfortable but Sam couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t have the energy to try and wiggle away from it and it wouldn't do him any good anyway. It wasn’t like he could move further than a few inches in either direction and all that would serve to do was smear his blood across more of the untouched leather, making his discomfort that much greater. 

“Atta boy Sammy”. Dean squeezed tightly at the sore flesh around the protruding blade as he praised Sam, causing the younger man to groan, the muscles in his neck tightening as he tried to keep from screaming. 

Dean was leaning over him again, his free hand playing with Sam’s hair, his arm resting next to his head holding his weight. The hand that had been grasping Sam’s leg relaxed, Dean’s thumb flicking absentmindedly against the handle causing small jolts of fresh pain to shoot up Sam’s leg. His face was hovering right above Sam’s, their eyes locked and just like before Sam found himself unable to look away. 

“You’re a hunter Sam, you where meant for this. All those years of training, you know you can take it”. Underneath the encouragement was something else, something that Sam’s pain fogged brain struggled to comprehend. A tone he had heard his brother use so many times before but never directed at him, hell not even towards a guy. 

Smirking Dean winked at San before pulling away, purposely flicking the blade before disappearing out of Sam’s view, a hiss of pain escaping from between Sam’s clenched teeth, his eyes slipping closed. 

Sam didn’t need to look to know that Dean had sat back down, the chair groaning loudly in protest under his weight. His boots made a loud thud as they hit the table, coming to rest next to Sam’s thigh. The sound of glass on glass echoed around the room as Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey, which was impossible because Sam had been sure that they had been over by the door and Dean definitely hadn’t gone that far. 

Slowly Sam’s eyelids flickered open, his eyes darting to the side following Dean’s legs all the way up to his hips and the bottle he had clasped lightly in his hand. Sam watched as he leaned forward to put the bottle on the tray next him, making a soft clinking as it hit whatever ‘tools’ still lay in wait before slouching back into the chair, bringing the glass of amber liquid up to his smirking lips as he flung the other arm over the back of the chair. 

“Do you remember the first time dad left us alone Sammy? Just the two of us, no one around to babysit”. Sam didn’t know if he was supposed to answer or if it was just like the rest of his questions, just meant to dig a little deeper into his fragile psyche. Instead he just continued to stare at the man in front of him, waiting for his next move because he would make another, he had to.

Frowning Dean’s eyes darkened, his features changing from playful and kind to dark and angry. Quicker than Sam could keep track of Dean was pulling one of his boot clad feet back and slamming it down into Sam’s thigh straight on top of the scalpel, forcing the small blade almost all the way into his leg. 

Sam couldn’t suppress the scream that burst from between his lips, his eyes slamming shut as the pain increased by ten. His whole leg was burning, blood gushing in quick spurts, covering the underside of the shoe that was still pressing down on the small part of the handle that was protruding from his leg. 

“Answer me”. Dean spit out the command between clenched teeth, his foot pushing down just that little bit harder coxing a strangled yes from between Sam’s spit covered lips. Instantly the pressure disappeared, Dean’s foot slipping back into place above the other. The room went silent, the only sound Sam’s desperate gasps for breath. 

This pain was nothing new. He had been stabbed a thousand times before, here and back on Earth but somehow it seemed to last that little longer, cut that little deeper, burn that little hotter. Sam knew it had more to do who it was and not what it was. And though he knew that it wasn’t real and wasn’t happening it didn’t change a thing because for him it was real and it was happening. 

Just because it wasn’t the real Dean didn’t make what was happening to him any less real because this was his reality now. This was his life, his forever and nothing was ever going to change that because there was no way he would ever be getting out of the cage. He was stuck there till the end of time, probably longer. His only purpose in this new life was to serve as Lucifer’s play thing and nothing could change that. 

“Tell me”. Dean’s demanding voice cut through Sam’s thoughts pulling him back to now. Rolling his eyes back up to the ceiling Sam took a deep breath and thought back to that first time and slowly in the voice he only ever used when he was explaining something to Dean that he didn’t understand and Sam just couldn’t understand why, he told him what he remembered. 

“We were in the middle of some run down little piss hole in god knows where, miles away from civilisation. Dad didn’t have time to run us somewhere before he headed out and like always you where insisting you could handle things, if only for the night. I’m sure dad only said yes to get you to shut the hell up. You always managed to do my head in when you get all uppity so I can only imagine what it did to him. He hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes before I started to annoy you. Always asking too many questions, wanting to know everything and willing to take whatever you would give me. You never did tell me to shut up though, always kept your cool, answering what you could and skating around what you couldn’t. We were too young to be left alone, we both knew it but it didn’t stop it from being something new, something exciting. You let me stay up till I was practically falling asleep on you. I don’t think I will ever forget how you tried to boss me into bed like dad did till you finally gave up and just shoved me till I moved”. 

Sam paused, unwilling to carry on down memory lane, dragging up things he had long thought buried, gone even. Lost forever to the ravages of time and the unreliableness of the human mind, but it seemed Dean had other ideas. His foot nudged at Sam’s blood covered thigh reminding him who was in charge and reluctantly Sam let his mind wonder back to that night and his five year old self who had seen his brother for the hero he was for the very first time. 

“There was a thunder storm that night. It sounded so loud and angry and I was so scared, huddled up underneath the cheap sheets, shaking and telling myself I was safe. It didn’t help. Every time there was a clap of thunder I’m sure I whimpered, probably closer to pissing myself than anything else. But then there you where, slipping in behind me and wrapping me tight in your arms. We stayed like that the whole night. Me curled up into your side, tightly wrapped in your arms, hidden under the covers as you whispered that everything was going to be okay, I was safe, that it couldn’t hurt me”.

As Sam had spoke Dean had gotten up from his chair and slowly made his way round to the other side of the bound man, avoiding the now large blood pool on the tiled floor. With a grace that only a hunter could posses Dean lifted himself up onto the edge of the table, lying down on the small sliver of exposed leather. He pushed his front tight against Sam’s side, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder, intertwining his legs with Sam’s untouched outstretched one. His warm hand skimmed across Sam’s chest, Dean’s nails scratching softly at the skin before darting up to play with Sam’s sweat soaked hair.

They stayed that way for what seemed like an age, days even, in complete silence as Sam continued to gaze up at the impossibly bright ceiling and Dean seemed content to just lay there, pressed tight against Sam’s side, playing with the ends of his long hair. 

Now that Sam could think he could hear the music again, Blue Oyster Cult having changed to AC/DC. It took Sam a while to figure out the song but as soon as it slipped into the chorus he knew it instantly. The irony that all this was happening with highway to hell playing in the background wasn’t lost on Sam. 

He had always hated that song. Whenever Dean had put it on in the car there would be a minuet long bitch fest as Sam tried to turn it off and Dean tried to stop him, always ending with Sam sulking in the passenger seat nursing a sore hand and Dean turning the blasted song up so loud the window panes rattled.

Dean’s hot breath hitting the underside of his chin as he sighed drew Sam away from the fond memory and back to his current situation. It was only as he went to lick his suddenly dry lips did he realise he had been smiling slightly, something he hadn’t done since his first few moments in the cage. 

As if he could sense Sam’s brief brush with happiness Dean tugged a little harder on his hair, making sure he had Sam’s full attention before he continued. “You remember what we said Sam? What I promised?” Dean’s voice was soft, reminiscent of how it had been when they where children causing Sam’s heart to fill with dread. It didn’t sound right coming out of grown up Dean’s mouth and Sam would be happy if he never heard it again.

Sam swallowed nervously as once again his mind went back, seeming to be on automatic command whenever the other man spoke. He could remember as clear as day what they had said to one another that night but it had just been children trying comfort one another in a moment of need. It was never meant as a lasting promise. But that didn’t stop him from pulling in a shaky breath and stuttering out his reply, tears already welling in his eyes. 

“You promised you would always be there for me, looking out for me. No matter what you would protect me because you where my big brother and that was your job. You said it was just me and you against the world. Sam and Dean forever”. 

Sam’s heart was racing again, tears threatening to fall with every shaky breath he took. He knew what was coming next, knew it would break his heart but that was the whole point behind this wasn’t it? To break him? “That’s right baby boy, always and forever”.

Dean’s voice felt like ice burning against Sam’s nerve endings, threatening to swallow him whole. Dean’s nails scraped along the curve of Sam’s neck, catching on the skin. Instantly Sam tensed waiting for him to dig them in and drag them down but all he did was continue to run his fingers soothingly over the abused flesh. 

“What about you Sammy, what did you promise?” Oh and there it was, that knife hovering just above his heart, poised to plunge in and cut it out. Squeezing his eyes shut Sam bit at his lip until he could taste the familiar metallic tang of blood on his tongue, willing the words he could feel rising in his throat to just disappear. But as Sam’s tears finally started to fall, slipping back down the side of his head and into his hair the words burst free and he sobbed out his choked confession. 

“I promised that I would never leave you. That I would always follow you no matter where you lead us because you where my big brother and it was my duty as your little brother. I promised that I would always trust you, that I would never keep things from you. That I would stay with you forever because nothing would ever be able to separate us”.

Sam’s body shook with the force of his sobs, his tears falling freely now as he was reminded how completely he had failed Dean in every way possible. “Shhh baby boy shhh”. Dean cooed, the hand that had been playing with Sam’s hair slipping free of the silky strands coming up to caress his cheek, his ruff thumb swiping just under his left eye, wiping away Sam’s still falling tears.

“Oh baby don’t cry”. Dean’s lips brushed against the underside of Sam’s jaw as he whispered softly. Desperately Sam tried to stop his tears but it seemed that now they had started he was making up for all those times he had told himself to man up and get on with it, he could cry over it when he was dead.

Dean’s hand slipped from Sam’s cheek, brushing against his jaw as he moved to lay his hand flat against the smooth surface next to his head. “Oh Sam”. In one quick movement Dean pushed himself round and up, swinging his right leg over Sam’s waist till he was sat firmly on Sam’s stomach; legs’ straddling him, pushed tight against his thighs putting fresh pressure on Sam’s still bleeding leg causing him to sob out a pained moan. 

Shifting his weight slightly Dean leant forward till his chest was pushed tightly against Sam’s, his head once again resting on Sam’s right shoulder, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck so they could idly resume playing with his hair. 

Sam’s body had gone stiff in the new position, so unused to having his brother so close. His tears fell silently now leaving cool tracks on his warm skin as they slid over his skin. He felt exhausted, like every ounce of energy had been drained from him, being leached from the places where the other man touched him. 

Sam didn’t know how long he had been in this place for, how much time had passed up on earth but what he did know was that he wouldn’t last long with Dean pulling the strings, keeping him constantly on the edge of a blade, dragging up the past and all the things that Sam hated himself for more than the real Dean probably knew. 

“You left me Sammy”. Dean’s broken and sad voice cut deep into Sam’s heart, the metaphorical knife twisting, slipping deeper with every word till Sam thought he would never be able to pull it free again. “You promised and you left me all alone. Just walked out the door and didn’t look back. Ran away to play normal and left me so lost without you Sam”.

As he spoke Dean had lifted his head from where it had been resting, raising his body till his face was hovering over Sam’s, filling his field of vision. He knelt over Sam now, only their legs touching sending little shocks of pain up Sam’s thigh every time they brushed. 

Dean looked so sad, so lost, like his whole world was crumbling around him and he didn’t know what to do. All Sam wanted was to pull him into a tight embrace and reassure him that everything was going to be okay. It wasn’t until the straps started to dig into his arms did Sam realise that he had been trying to do just that.

Instantly he shrunk back against the table pushing himself as far back against it as he could, desperate to get as much room between him and the monstrosity above him. Dean didn’t seem to notice Sam flinching back from him or if he did he chose to ignore it. Instead he leaned in closer, one hand slipping back to grasp the top of the table bringing their faces just inches apart.

“And then you meet her and you stopped caring didn’t you Sammy. Didn’t have time to worry about your poor abandoned brother when you had that whores legs wrapped around your neck”. The sadness was gone replaced with anger and venom, his eyes more like dark slits as he glared down at Sam. Sam’s eyes where wide, filled with shock at the utter distain in the other man’s voice, his mouth open but words refusing to serve him. 

Sighing Dean’s features shifted once again, going back to sad with an underlying current of questioning. His head fell forward the last few inches, his forehead hitting Sam’s with a dull thud. His eyes seemed to bore straight into Sam’s, searching for what Sam didn’t know. 

“Or did you? Did you think about me at night when that woman was curled up beside you? Did you wish it was me you were going home to after a long day instead?” Dean’s eyes flickered briefly from Sam’s eyes, down to his red raw lips then back up again. Before Sam couldn’t comprehend what the action meant Dean’s soft lips where pushing hard against his in a bruising kiss.


	3. Honest To God I’ll Break Your Heat. Tear You To Pieces And Rip You Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam’s Hell would always be made of the one thing he could never live without and Lucifer would take great pleasure in destroying it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I feel I should warn you before we start that this story contains a hell of a lot graph description of torture. Also it contains rape, rape whilst being tortured, incest, verbal abuse, knife and blood play and one hell of a lot of angst and self hate.
> 
> Also I do not own any rights to any of these characters; this is a complete work of fiction. This is the other half of the last chapter it has a lot more gore in it than the last so again make sure you are old enough to read this. If not naughty children, shame on you. Also chapter title comes from a 30 Seconds To Mars song witch you can find here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zK268TLKCK4 .
> 
> Please do not hate me for this and as always your comments are always welcome. Thank you for your time.

Honest To God I’ll Break Your Heat. Tear You To Pieces And Rip You Apart

Sam froze his mind short circuiting as the man on top of him moaned deeply. Disgust and horror welled up inside of him, turning his stomach and threatening to expel its contents. It was wrong on so many different levels that Sam wasn’t sure what to make of it let alone do to make it stop. As best as he could Sam tried to jerk his head away from the other mans insistent lips, only succeeding in turning his head but an inch to the left, causing Dean’s lips to slide off his. 

Pulling back Dean sighed in frustration, pulling his plump bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on it. Sam firmly set his jaw in a grim line, glaring at the man above him. He could feel the hate radiating off of him, his disdain for the other man so strong in that moment that Sam was convinced the other man could feel it in his bones. 

Sam watched in annoyance as Dean smirked, pushing himself back up till he was once again sitting on Sam’s stomach. His green eyes where alight with a blazing fire, a swirling mix of hunger and desire that illuminated Dean’s features making him look ten years younger.

Worry started to eat away at the disgust that sat deep inside of Sam as he watched Dean’s smile widen, flashing his white teeth in a hungry smile that gave him a truly demonic look. “Maybe you just need reminding who you belong to hummm Sam”.

As he spoke Dean reached behind him, his smile never faltering as he fiddled with the back of his shirt. Sam knew that two things could be kept there. Had seen Dean slip both of them into the waistband of his jeans so many times before a hunt that he was sure that there must be a permanent grove in his back from where they had been pressed into his skin so often. 

Dean’s eyes seemed to glow as he pulled his hand back round, fingers wrapped firmly around the dark handle of his trusty Bowie knife that spent every knight shoved under the pillow of whatever bed Dean decided to lay his head down on. 

The blade gleamed brightly, catching the light as Dean twirled it expertly between nimble fingers. Sam didn’t know if he was more relieved or disappointed that Dean hadn’t pulled out his trusty and most favourite gun, his Colt 1911. 

A gunshot would be quick, slicing through flesh and bone in a heartbeat and at such close range it was likely the bullet would go all the way through. The pain would be immense but it would be concentrated to one spot, easier to isolate, to forget. But the knife, oh that would be a completely different story. 

Sam knew that Dean would be slow, deliberate, take his time to map out Sam’s body finding the spots where it hurt the most. Everything would hurt all at once, fast and unbearable. Just as his pain fogged mind would start to clear, start to build its walls against the agony it would start all over again. That slow itching burn as the blade slipped deeper, was dragged that little harder across his supple skin. He could spend hour’s just cutting pretty little patterns into Sam’s body, only just breaking the skin, not causing any real pain, just proving that Sam was his to do with as he pleased for however long he wanted. Till he grew bored of their little charade. 

Sam couldn’t tare his eyes away from the knife clutched tightly in Dean’s right hand as he slowly brought the tip down, letting it rest threateningly against his hot skin. Every breath Sam took pushed the blade a little harder against him as Dean kept a constant pressure on it. Sam’s eyes strained as he tried to see what the other man was doing but the band across his head kept him from seeing anything past half way down the blade. 

“You belong to me Sam. You always will. Don’t you see that?” As he spoke Dean pushed down on the knife, the sharp edge slicing through Sam’s skin like it was air. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head, neck straining as he threw his head back, a gurgled cry of pain wrenching its way free from Sam’s scream raw throat.

Sam didn’t need to see to know what Dean was carving into his right pectoral, his mind easily following the short straight lines and the longer curved strokes. The words stretching out across his skin, spreading out towards his anti possession tattoo, the sharp blade catching as it twisted and turned, the top of the R at the end of Winchester curling around his left nipple.

As Dean pulled back, the impossibly cold knife disappearing from his skin Sam knew he was looking down at his handy work. He didn’t need to see Dean to know that that stupid smug, self satisfied smirk was plastered over his face, tugging at the corners of his plump lips, making his eyes glow with mischief. 

Sam blood swelled to the surface, seeping out of the shallow cuts and sliding down his sore and abused flesh to well in the hollow of his chest. Before Sam had a chance to gain any sort of composure Dean’s hot mouth was pressing hard against his tender flesh, his impossibly cold tongue slipping out to trace along the words he had carved into him. Leaving a fiery trail behind as he licked and sucked Sam’s freshly spilt blood into his hungry mouth. 

Sam heard rather than felt the knife fall to the table next to his head as Dean’s hand shot up to brace his weight, his left hand slipping down to grasp tightly at Sam’s hip as he slid his body down, pushing their groins tight against one another. 

Dean groaned loudly, throwing his head back in pleasure as his erection rubbed against the hard planes of Sam’s body, his mouth coming free of Sam’s blood and saliva covered skin with an obscene sucking noise. 

Sam’s body tensed, the all consuming sickness welling up inside of him once again. He wanted to throw up, rip his ears off so he would never have to hear that sound ever again, claw his own skin off so he would never have to feel his brother’s naked skin against his own. But most of all he wanted to strangle the man above him, dig his thumbs in and rip out his vocal cords. Wanted to hurt him so completely that he would never think of pretending to be Dean ever again.

In a desperate attempt to dislodge the man above him Sam jerked his uninjured leg and rolled his hips as best as he could but only succeeded in rubbing against the other mans hard length, dragging another deep pleasure filled groan from between his glistening lips. 

Dean’s head fell forward, his forehead landing on Sam’s collar bone as he continued to thrust against the bound man beneath him, the top of his head pushing against Sam’s chin with every slow jerk of his hips. The soft cotton of his unbuttoned shirt and the hard plastic buttons brushing over his raw and abused skin causing it to itch and burn. “Oh Sammy so good”.

As Dean moaned into the crock of Sam’s neck his brain seemed to restart, everything crashing in on him as an angry growl tore its self from deep within, his shoulder jerking to try and dislodge the man pressed so tight against him. “Get the fuck off me”.

As soon as Sam’s growled command filled the air around them Dean stilled. Slowly he pushed himself up, his questioning gaze locking with Sam’s as soon as his head was high enough. Snarling at him Sam glared up towards his captor, never once braking eye contact.

“Don’t you ever touch me you sick freak”. Sam spat the words out through clenched teeth, enjoying the shocked look on the man’s face above him as he flinched back till he was sitting on Sam’s waist, as if his words had physically shoved him away. 

Sam wasn’t expecting the sharp sting as Dean’s solid palm collided with the side of his face, the force of the blow snapping his head to the side, pushing it against the leather strap. Everything seemed to be swimming through a thick fog, a loud high pitched ringing in his ears making it almost impossible to concentrate on anything but the stinging burning pain covering the left side of his face. 

Sam barley registered the weight disappearing from his body as Dean slipped from the table. Could hardly focus enough to pick up but a few words as Dean yelled at him, demanding to know why Sam had to always treat him like shit, like he was the most unimportant disgusting person to exist. 

Everything snapped back into sharp reality as blunt nails scraped along sensitive skin, digging into torn bloody flesh as they wrapped around the small exposed part of the scalpels handle, yanking it free of its fleshy prison. 

Sam yelled in shock, his hands balling into fists, leg spasming against his bonds, the blade ripping chunks of tissue free. The tinkling thud of the blade hitting the tiled floor seemed to echo in slow motion, cutting through every other sound just as sharp and just as easily as it had through Sam’s own skin. 

Dean’s grip tightened on the blood slick skin, his nails digging into the abused flesh, the sharp stinging pain adding to the burning mess of agony that had become Sam’s leg. “Oh no Sammy, the only freak here is you”. Dean’s other hand was back in Sam’s hair, yanking on it till Sam’s neck was pulled taught, offering up his jugular.

Dean’s face was right in front of Sam’s, nothing but a few inches between them as he growled angrily at him. “I mean what kind of person besides a freak could be deemed the rightful king of hell, destined to lead an army of demons against his own kind? What kind of person would sleep with a demon and stroll around the country following her orders sucking up demon blood like they would die without it? What kind of man would be destined to be the devils meat suite, the guy’s best friend, his prom dress, the face of the greatest evil the world has ever known?”

Dean leaned forward his mouth hovering above Sam’s ear, his cold tongue sliding out to flicking at Sam’s ear. Sam was hanging on every word that came out of Dean’s mouth waiting for the next, anticipating the verbal blow. This he could handle, he had spent his whole life being called a freak by one person or another. It was nothing new. He had grown numb to it a long time ago. But what came next made Sam’s eyes wide with horror as Dean’s words shot through him like a speeding bullet, tearing a hole through his chest. “What kind of sick freak wishes his brother dead?”

As Dean whispered the words, his hot breath fanning over Sam’s sensitive skin he shoved two fingers deep into the still bleeding hole in the side of Sam’s leg, his blunt nails scratching against the inside. Sam screamed louder than he had before, the pain drenched sound echoing off the walls, mixing with each other till it sounded like a choir. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, silent tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t breathe it hurt so much. 

Sam could feel every wrinkle on his fingers, every twitch they made as Dean slowly slid them out before thrusting them back in. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but the pain and how his leg seemed to be of fire, burning brightest where Dean’s fingers where still buried deep inside his thigh. “Gonna make you see Sammy. Make you remember”.  
Dean’s blood slick fingers slid out easily, Sam hardly hearing the sick squelching noise over his own gasp. His eyes fluttered open, flickering from side to side barely focussing on Dean as he pulled away from him. His hand slipping free of Sam’s hair so he could slowly move in between Sam’s spread legs. 

Red flashed across Sam’s vision, his blurred eyes just focussing on Dean’s blood splattered right hand and the two crimson covered fingers that had been inside of him just moments before. Dean was smiling again, his green eyes so dark they were practically black. 

Dean’s words echoed inside Sam’s head but he couldn’t remember a time when any of this would have seemed right, normal to either of them. None of this was right. The Dean he knew, the one he loved would rather drive the Impala off a cliff, plunging to a fiery death than do that sort of thing with him.

Sam gasped in surprise as a warm hand cupped the bottom of his ass, his ruff thumb gently rubbing at his puckered hole. On instinct Sam tried to jerk away from the searching hand but as he moved the straps around his body tightened, holding him in place making it impossible for him to move. 

Panic wrapt its self around Sam as Dean slowly started to push the tip of his thumb against Sam’s opening on every down stroke before swiping it up to do it again. “Don’t. Please don’t”. Sam’s panic was evident in his pleading voice as he begged the other man to stop. 

His body was trembling. A sickness welling up inside of him that was consuming him from the inside out. He was sweating, his skin burning as he strained against his bonds, franticly trying to get away from the other man. Desperation and panic mixing together making it impossible for Sam to see past anything other than the horror that was about to befall him.

“Can’t Sammy. Never know how to stop when it comes to you”. Dean’s hand slipped away from Sam’s ass, sliding up over sweat slick skin to grasp tightly at his hip, nails digging in and Sam would bet his soul if he could that he would have a dark bruise in a matter of minutes in the shape of Dean’s hand. 

A chocked whine escaped from between Sam’s lips, his eyes slamming closed as he tried to turn his head away, franticly trying to think about anything but what was coming. But as cool slick fingers rubbed gently against his opening all Sam could think of was how much it was going to hurt. Or no matter how much he told himself it wasn’t Dean it was impossible not to think of him because it was Dean. From the way he felt to the way he smelt all the way down to the little details like the small scare just above his middle knuckle on his right hand.

Sam’s whole body tensed as the two fingers slicked with his own blood began to slowly push into him. “Lucifer stop”. Sam whispered his plea not expecting it to get him anything but a condemning chuckle before he continued to push inside of him. 

Dean’s fingers stilled against Sam and slowly Sam turned his gaze back to the man above him, not stupid enough to believe that the devil of all people would show him mercy but hopeful enough that he would spare him the agony of having his brother do something so monstrous to him. 

Dean’s emerald eyes where ablaze with hurt and anger, his face twisted and distorted as he sneered down at Sam. With a loud cry worthy of an ancient battle field, Dean lunged forward, the hand that had been gripping Sam’s hip shooting up to grab the blade that lay discarded by Sam’s head. 

Sam bit down hard on his tongue, franticly trying not to scream as Dean thrust the blade deep into his right shoulder. The blade going all the way through flesh and bone and muscle to imbed its self in the table underneath him. 

“I am not fucking Lucifer!” Dean yelled, twisting the blade sharply, pushing that little harder against it. “All I wonna do is make you feel good and if that makes me the devil Sammy then so fucking be it”. With that Dean shoved his fingers deep inside Sam with one forceful twist of his wrist.

Sam couldn’t suppress his scream this time. His whole body feeling like it was being split in two. The pain was greater than he had thought possible. His blood not providing hardly any lubrication at all. Tears where falling from his eyes again, parts of his body that had never and should never be touched burning from the intrusion.

“Stop!” Sam screamed out his plea, body straining against his bonds as they tightened that little bit more, cutting into his skin. “No”. Pulling his fingers out Dean quickly shoved them back in, the hand wrapped around the knife imbedded in his shoulder yanking on the handle, dragging it down, splitting open everything in its way. 

A mix of pain filled sobs and gurgled cries fell from Sam’s lips as Dean continued to brutally pump his fingers in and out of Sam’s abused body, his pleasure filled moans mixing with Sam’s chocked out pleads for him to stop.

“Gonna make you feel it Sam. Till you want it, need it, beg for it”. Dean’s voice dripped with sex, his fingers stilling inside of Sam. Slowly Dean gently pulled the knife from Sam’s shoulder, careful not to cut any more of Sam’s tanned skin than he already had. 

Sam was breathing hard, not able to manage anything more than a wince and a small hiss of pain as the blade slipped free. Just as slowly as he had pulled the knife out Dean slid his fingers free of Sam’s tight hole, drawing a pained whimper from Sam as his fingers rubbed over the sore flesh once more. 

Sam couldn’t help but feel a small wave of relief wash over him at finally having the intrusive appendages out of his body thought it was short lived as realisation hit him hard that what was coming next would be a lot bigger than the two fingers that had just been inside of him.

He felt raw, stretched open to the point where it was too much, unnatural. Pain was shooting up his spine from the intrusion and his own weight was making the way he was laying uncomfortable. His heart was pounding as Sam tried to prepare himself for the onslaught of pain he was expecting. 

When it didn’t come Sam’s nerves got the better of him, his eyes swivelling round searching for his tormentor. Dean stood between his legs gazing down at Sam with a sort of fondness in his now soft green eyes. As soon as he knew he had Sam’s attention Dean’s eyes turned dark, his gaze becoming hungry as a demonic smile split his face in two.  
Turning his back to Sam Dean started to fiddle with something that even if he strained Sam would never be able to see. A low hissing noise filled the air, thick steam rising from in front of Dean. Turning his head slightly Dean shot Sam a wicked smile over his shoulder, winking at him before turning back to his task. 

Sam was panicking. He didn’t understand what was going on. He had thought, had been convinced of what Dean was about to do and for him to just stop? It didn’t sit well with Sam. The wait was killing him, the anticipation eating away at him like a flesh eating parasite. If Dean was going to do it Sam would rather he just got on with it and be done with it, but then why would Lucifer do anything that Sam would want him to? Drawing it out would make Sam suffer just that little bit more and at the hands of Dean it all seemed so much worse.

“Because you will beg Sammy”. Sam watched the muscles in Dean’s right arm flex, his voice low and full of promise as it floated over his shoulder. “It may not be tomorrow or a week from now, maybe not even a year but the day will come when you will scream for it Sam”. 

As he spoke Dean slowly turned around, cocky smile brightening his darkened features. He looked so much like the Dean that Sam knew that it would be impossible to tell the difference between the two if you stood them next to one another. 

Sam’s attention was drawn from his face to his hands as Dean flexed his wrist bringing the long iron rod he held up into Sam’s view. Sam’s eyes instantly zeroed in on the glowing, burning hot DW at the end that Dean held out towards him, his taunting smile daring Sam to beg him not to. 

Sam barely had time to think of where the branding iron would strike before Dean’s free hand was wrapping around his right knee and the hot metal was shoved hard against the weak flesh on the inside of his thigh. 

Sam screamed, his nails clawing at his palms, body thrashing against his restraints as the blazing hot metal melted away his skin, sinking deep into the muscle making the blood that swelled to the surface boil and the skin around it blister. 

Sam’s whole body was a bloody mangled mess of pain. Every nerve on fire as the excruciating agony spread through him, spilling out to fill him, consuming him from the tips of his toes to the ends of his eyelashes. 

In that moment Sam wished he had said yes to Lucifer all those months ago. Stopped pretending to be the good guy and accepted his fate. He could have made a deal, bargained for terms. Lucifer would have agreed to anything to get his hands on Sam’s body, his destined vessel. All Sam would have had to do was ask. And surly anything would have been better than the pain he was going through now? 

Sam hardly felt the branding iron being pulled away from his skin till it was gone, the cool air hitting his burning flesh with a low hiss. Smirking Dean swung the brand round swinging the top up so he could have a closer look at the evidence of his latest game that clung to his newest toy. 

Melted globs of flesh hung from the rapidly cooling metal, dripping from the iron letters and running down the handle. “You belong to me Sam”. The branding iron fell from Dean’s fingers, clattering to the floor. 

With the sound still ringing in Sam’s ears Dean moved forward till his groin was pushed tight against the cress of Sam’s ass, his erection straining against the tight denim of his jeans. His ruff hands slid up over Sam’s hips, thumbs rubbing small circles into his protruding hip bones. “Mind, body and soul. All of you belongs to me Sammy and the sooner you except that the better this will be for you”.

Dean’s soft voice penetrated through Sam’s pain fogged mind, his words just adding another layer of sorrow on top of the putrid pool of agony his body had become. Sam’s body lay limp and exhausted. His mind lost to the pain that consumed him, unable to think anything other than how much it hurt and how he wanted all to just be over with already.

Sam didn’t even flinch as the sharp unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered reached his ears, accepting that more pain was coming, knowing that no matter what it would destroy his image of Dean forever because no matter what he would never be able to think of his brother again without seeing this moment. Without feeling his trigger finger pushing deep inside him. Without tasting his own blood in his mouth as he tried his hardest not to scream. 

Dean smiled softly down at Sam, a strangely loving look in his emerald eyes as he slowly lined the head of his thick cock up against Sam’s opening. “You and me baby brother always and forever”. With one hard, swift thrust of his hips Dean pushed into Sam, not stopping till he was buried all the way to the hilt inside his tight heat.

Sam’s scream mixed with Dean’s pleasured moan, his back arching against the stabbing pain that shot up his spine. He felt stretched beyond normal, everything pulled so tight that the soft skin inside of him was ripping, blood filling him. Sam’s body felt like it was being split in two as Dean slowly pulled out and thrust back in, deeper and harder, whispering filthy little encouragements and endearments as he went.

Sam’s whole body shock with the force of his sobs, his cries for the other man to stop falling deaf ears. Dean hunched over Sam’s helpless body, his thrusts getting harder and faster with each snap of his hips, his cries of pleasure getting louder, his words dirtier.

Squeezing his eyes shut Sam bit down hard on the inside of his bottom lip trying to stem the flow of pleads and pained whimpers. Sam allowed himself to get lost in the steady jerk of his body rubbing painfully against the leather with every brutal, demanding thrust of Dean’s hips. The mix of childhood nicknames and derogatory terms that fell from Dean’s lips echoing around Sam’s head.

“So good Sammy. You’ll see”. Dean gasped out between moans, his grip on Sam’s hips tightening as his thrusts became more erratic. A chocked cry wrenched its way past Sam’s clenched jaw at Dean’s words because deep down Sam knew that he was right. 

It wouldn’t necessarily be tomorrow or in a month or even a year’s time. They had forever and Sam knew that no matter what he did he would never be able to last that long. He just wasn’t that strong. The change maybe sudden or it might be gradual but it would happen. 

Lucifer would look at him with such triumph because he had finally broken the great Sam Winchester, the last of the Winchester men to find their way into the fiery pits of Hell and all because Sam would do what he said he would all along.

He would scream for it.


	4. Hold Me Under, Cut Away This Empty. Hold Me Under, Change The Way I Feel About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam can’t tell the difference any more but then again he isn’t really sure if he wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I feel I should warn you before we start that this story contains a hell of a lot graph description of torture. Also it contains rape, rape whilst being tortured, incest, verbal abuse, knife and blood play and one hell of a lot of angst and self hate.
> 
> Also I do not own any rights to any of these characters; this is a complete work of fiction. I finished, I really finished. I finished two stupid days ago but because I wrote the whole thing on my bloody phone I had to type it all up on the lap top. It takes far too long. The title comes from a Jack Off Jill song that can be found here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfhNJtGgeg0 .
> 
> Please do not hate me for this and as always your comments are always welcome. Thank you for your time.

Hold Me Under, Cut Away This Empty. Hold Me Under, Change The Way I Feel About You

He lasted three years.

Three long years with no reprieve. Just him and Dean. Always.

It wasn’t always like the first time. Sometimes it was worse, dragged out over days. Everything about it designed to make every inch of him hurt whilst keeping him conscious and alert to feel every last little thing. 

Other days he didn’t touch Sam at all. Just sat in the old rust chair and talked to him about their life growing up. About how bad it had got for him once Sam had left and then how much better it was once Sam had come back to him, once Jess was dead. 

More often than not those days where worse than the physical torture. Always making Sam hate himself to the point where he longed for the blades, the burning, the drowning, flogging, flaying, thumbscrews, scalping, chocking, crushing, anything but the words that cut him a thousand times deeper than any knife could. Filling him with self hatred and shame so strong that he wished to be alive, on Earth, just so he could kill himself. 

And then there were the days where Dean tried to seduce him. Whispering confessions of a forbidden love all the while whilst Sam begged him to stop because it never stopped hurting. Never stopped feeling like a bundle of razor wire was being shoved inside of him, ripping him open and leaving him a bloody, gaping mess. But one day everything changed. The angle shifted and nothing was the same again.

Dean shifted his stance, pulling Sam’s hips that little bit closer to the edge of the table. Moaning deeply Dean’s thrusts became harder and deeper as he continued his brutal assault on Sam’s body. His ruff hands sliding over blood slick skin as they sneaked round to grab the underside of Sam’s ass. His thumb absentmindedly caressing the stark white DW scar on the inside of his thigh. The only thing apart from Dean and the room they were in that had remained a constant throughout the whole ordeal.

Pleasure shot through Sam as Dean thrust deep into him, the head of his cock rubbing against something deep inside of him. A shocked moan tore its self from Sam’s split and blistered lips, his back arching up into Dean’s searching mouth as his cold tongue swirled around his blood covered nipple, sucking it into his hot mouth. The tip of his cool tongue flicked into the hole where Dean had shoved a burning fish hock through the puckered flesh just hours ago, as Dean pushed into him hitting that sweet spot once again, pulling a pleasured gasp from Sam. 

“That’s it Sammy”. Dean mumbled his encouragement around a mouthful of Sam’s cut and burned flesh as he kissed and licked his way from one nipple to the other, grasping the now cool metal of the remaining fish rock between his teeth, tugging gently on it.

San could feel his own cock hardening under the thick leather strap that was pulled tight across his groin, welcoming the dull ache as his hard member strained against the soft leather. Sam didn’t know when pacifically everything had changed. When Lucifer wearing Dean’s skin had just become Dean. His Dean. When pain had stopped just being plane old agony and had become something else. Something that filled him with pleasure and left him yearning for more.

“Dean”. Sam moaned his brother’s name trying to move into his brutal and demanding thrusts as much as his restraints would allow, the leather cutting into his skin. “Tell me Sammy. Tell me what you want”. Dean was using the voice he always saved for barking orders at him, taking charge like the leader he was born to be, sending shivers of anticipation down Sam’s spine.

Dean’s words seemed to break through Sam’s last mental restraints and before Sam knew what he was doing he was moaning out for Dean to take him, fuck him, break him. Make him feel it, make it hurt, make him his forever. Telling him where it hurt most, what felt good, what made him scream the loudest, what made him feel Dean all the way down to his soul. 

If possible Dean’s thrusts became harder, ramming himself into Sam with a force that was just on the wrong side of painful but all it serves to do was make Sam scream for more, begging Dean to rip him in two. 

Groaning Dean bit down on Sam’s shoulder, his teeth sinking deep into the flesh till blood welled in his mouth. “Please”. Sam whimpered, throwing his head back as much as his restraints would allow, exposing the long column of his neck. Pulling his mouth away from the now bleeding bite on Sam’s shoulder Dean raised his head high enough to look Sam in the eyes. What Sam saw sent a wave of hunger shooting through him, his neglected cock twitching with want.

Dean’s eyes where wide, his pupil blown wide with lust and hunger, his tanned skin tinged with a rossie tint but what held Sam’s attention where Dean’s lips. Dean’s plump lips dripped with Sam’s blood, the ruby red liquid gleaming in the light as it slid of his bottom lip and dribbled down his chin, dripping of to land just over Sam’s heart, every drop burning into his already mangled skin like acid.

Sam wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick his blood from his brothers lips, sucking them into his greedy mouth until all he could taste was Dean. Dean’s tongue snuck out from between his parted lips, swiping across the bottom one and pulling Sam’s blood into his mouth as his tongue slipped back inside. 

Sam’s disappointed groan mingled with Dean’s hungry grow, his hips snapping into Sam erratically, his pace harsher and more brutal than Sam had thought possible. “Tell me what you want Sammy and I will give it to you, just like I promised baby boy”. 

Dean’s voice was breathless, his grip on Sam’s hips tightening, crushing the bone underneath, his blunt nails cutting into his tanned skin. Pain mixed with pleasure in a deadly, addictive mix that Sam craved, needed to survive. 

“Cut it out”. Sam screamed the words as Dean rammed into his prostate once more, sending shock waves of pleasure through his body momentarily chasing away all the agony before it came crashing down onto him like a ton of bricks. 

Gasping Sam clawed at his own palms, his bitten short nails slicing through the callous skin till they where sliding through the warm slick of his blood. Locking his own hungry gaze with Dean’s heated stare Sam offered up the last thing he had to give to the man above him, for he had already handed over his mind, body and soul. “Take it, it’s yours”.  
As realisation dawned on Dean a wide smile split his face in two, his perfect white teeth showing. Slowing his pace Dean leaned forward pressing a hard kiss against Sam’s dry lips. Moaning Sam shoved his tongue past Dean’s lips, licking inside the warm cavern of his mouth, sucking his cold tongue into his own mouth, savouring the shocked moan that reverberated through them both.

Pulling away Dean slammed hard into Sam’s pliant body drawing a loud cry from the younger man. Sam’s body hummed, his unmarked skin tingling, the flesh that had been marked beyond recognition stinging pleasantly. So lost was he to the sensation of pleasure spreading like a fire through him and the accompanying agony that was his body Sam didn’t even notice as Dean’s bloody fingers wrapped around the dark handle of the Bowie knife that lay abandoned next to Sam’s thigh.

Sam’s scream of pain echoed around the small room as Dean plunged the sharp bloody knife deep into his chest, slicing through the mangled flesh and deep into the muscle till it scraped against bone. Sam’s body was convulsing, blood gushing from the wound as Dean dragged the blade down, the flesh splitting open.

“Mine Sammy. Always going to be mine now”. Dean’s ruff voice added to the pleasure/pain that consumed Sam’s body, his back arching against his restraints as he tried to push his weakening body down into Dean’s hard thrusts. As quick as the blade had appeared it was gone, falling to the floor forgotten as Dean’s hungry groan mixed with Sam’s pained gasps, the fresh wound burning like acid had been poured inside.

Dean’s thrusts where becoming erratic, frantic, his breath heavy as he groaned and gasped out his pleasure. Sam knew Dean was close, knew all the signs after all the years having to watch Dean get himself off, using Sam’s body for his own pleasure like he was some really good sex doll. 

Sam couldn’t wait to feel it. To feel Dean lose himself inside of him, shooting his hot load inside of him as he used Sam’s body, dragging his own pleasure from his willing body in a fiery blaze of pain and blood and so good that Sam would be seeing stars.

Shifting his stance Dean placed his right hand flat against the table placing all his upper body weight on it, his left hand thumbing at the edge of the new wound. The fabric of Dean’s jeans rubbed against the inside of Sam’s thigh, the soft black cotton of his tight shirt rubbing over Sam’s sensitive nipple. 

Sam didn’t even try and stop his scream as Dean slid his hand inside the cut on his chest, sliding it down his sternum, pushing the skin and muscle away until his fingers found the end of his sternum and started to slip underneath, his hand turning till his palm was facing down. 

Sam could feel Dean’s hand inside of him, each jerk of his hips pushing his hand deeper under his ribs. The back of Dean’s hand brushed against Sam’s lungs as he pushed his had higher. Sam’s chocked moan ripped its way free of his scream raw throat as blood forced its way up, gushing from between his lips and dribbling down his face.

“So hot Sammy. Always so hot for me”. Sam only managed a gurgled cry at Dean’s heated words, his body spasming as Dean’s nails scraped against the soft beating muscle that was his heart. “Scream for me”. Dean hissed the command, his fingers wrapping around the organ before yanking hard. 

Sam’s body arched high of the table, his restraints going slack, a scream of pure pleasure and agony spilling from Sam’s lips, filling the room. Bright white light burst from behind Sam’s eyes and he knew he had come, his orgasm being ripped from his body as violently as his heart. 

Dean yanked his hand free of Sam’s body, his flesh ripping as it stretched across Dean’s hand and Sam’s still beating heart. Sam’s body slumped back onto the table with an audible thud, his body going limp.

With hooded eyes Sam stared lovingly up at his brother, a soft smile tugging at his lips as Dean lifted Sam’s hart to his lips, his hand dripping with blood. Winking down at his brother Dean swept his tongue over the slow beating organ. His eyes slamming shut as he moaned deeply in satisfaction, his hips slamming into Sam’s twice more before he stiffened against the spent man beneath him and Sam was filled with that delicious wet heat he had come to crave. 

Breathing deeply Dean collapsed against Sam’s side, the hand that still held his heart coming to rest next to Sam’s head. The wet thud it made as Dean let it fall to the table reverberated around Sam’s skull, his body giving an involuntary shudder as a dull ache filled the hole where his heart should have been. 

Sam sighed in content as Dean’s hand gently caressed the scar on his thigh, the mark that showed Sam for what he really was. Dean’s. “You belong to me baby boy. Always and forever your mine”. Sam smiled at Dean’s softly spoken possessive words, loving the feeling of being owned that it left him with. 

Sam could already feel his mangled and burned flesh knitting its self back together, healing and re-growing until all that was left of their previous activities where the vast pools of blood and the glistening fish hook that was still imbedded in his left nipple. 

His heart still sat next to his head, the steady beat lulling him into a relaxed state. Sam knew that before they started again Dean would remove it from temptations path and put it in an empty jar, placing it on one of the shelves with the many other jars, somewhere where Sam would always be able to see it. Now that Dean had been given it so willingly he wouldn’t be letting it go without a fight. 

Sighing Sam turned his head, nuzzling against the top of Dean’s head, breathing in his sent. “Forever”. Sam mumbled feeling the older man smile against his neck, his finger pushing that little bit harder against the brand. 

For the first time in a long time Sam felt happy, content because he knew what he felt, what he said to be real. Because this was his life, his forever, his Dean and he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Sighing Sam opened his eyes, turning to glance at the digital clock on the table that sat between his and Dean’s beds. 3:06 glared back at him in bright red lights, reminding Sam that he had only been back in the motel room for just over two hours and still hadn’t managed to find sleep. 

Groaning he flung back the covers, swinging his legs over the edge and pulling his body up into an upright position. Leaning forward Sam rubbed at his tired eyes, his elbows resting on his knees. His body ached with memories of a place he would sooner forget, his skin burning with the ghost of a touch that had burned its self into his memory. Sam wanted the feeling gone. Wanted to burn his own skin off just so he would never have to experience it again. Wanted to wash the horror away.

Shooting one last look over his shoulder at his still sleeping brother Sam pushed himself up off the bed and with a few quick, silent strides retreated into the small bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Sam didn’t bother to turn the light on, preferring the dim light of the moon that streamed in through the small window above the bathtub to the harsh artificial crap that the naked bulb would offer.

Quickly Sam pulled the tight grey shirt off over his head before yanking his low hanging sleep pants off his muscled legs, kicking them into the far corner. The cool night air hit his warm skin sending shivers down his spine as he stepped into the tub, his bare feet squeaking on the hard plastic. 

Yanking the cheap salmon pink shower curtain across Sam turned the shower on as high as he could stand and then some. The pipes groaned and spluttered before the water burst out of the grimy plastic head, the soft pitter patter of it hitting the bottom of the tub filling the room. 

Shoving his head under the warm spray Sam groaned as the water slid over his cool skin. Pushing his wet hair out of his face Sam turned his head up into the spray, his eyes slipping closed. He could feel the tension draining from his body as steam filled the room, his muscles relaxing, mind clearing. Letting his head loll forward Sam placed both his hands on the wall in front of him, spreading his legs for better balance in the wet space. 

Sam gasped as the hot water turned ice cold, a ruff hand sliding up the inside of his right thigh, a firm chest pressing tight against his back. “Ummm missed you Sammy”. Dean’s deep voice filled the small space, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin of Sam’s neck. Shivering Sam’s nails scraped against the dull white tiles, his body instinctively arching back into the warm heat of the man behind him. 

“Did you miss me baby boy?” Dean’s hand curled around the scar on the inside of Sam’s thigh, his nails scraping against the only physical reminder of his time in Hell. To his shame Sam moaned deeply, the naked body behind him feeling like a missing puzzle piece being slotted into place.

“You’re not real”. Sam gasped out as Dean’s other hand slowly snaked its way up his left arm till Dean’s hand was pressed over his, entwining their fingers. “That’s hurtful Sammy. I feel real don’t I?” As he spoke Dean pushed himself tight against Sam, his erection sliding against the crack of Sam’s ass

Recognition flashed through Sam at those words, his mind briefly flickering back to that first time. “I’m more real than him out there. After all he doesn’t know you does he? Not really. Doesn’t know what gets you hot, what leaves you begging and screaming for more. Doesn’t know how to treat you right, not like I do”. 

Dean nibbled at Sam’s neck, the hand that had been stroking his thigh shooting up to grab a fist full of Sam’s wet hair, yanking his head back with as much force as he could. Sam hissed in pain but didn’t try and stop him, his hands staying firmly on the tiles like the well trained whore he was.

Sam was breathing hard, anticipation welling inside of him. He could feel his cock swelling between his legs, his hunger for the other man pushing everything else from his mind. Dean’s hand let go of Sam’s, disappearing for a few seconds before the sharp blade of a knife was being pushed against the soft skin of his jugular. The moan that escaped from between Sam’s lips could only be described as longing as he ground back into Dean.

Chuckling Dean bit down hard on the muscle of Sam’s shoulder, pushing the blade that little bit harder into his willingly offered throat. “Your mine Sammy, forever”. Dean’s angry demanding voice shot straight through Sam, dragging a strangled yes from him. 

Quickly Sam lost himself to the moment, loving the feel of the man against him, content to spend forever in Dean’s arms because this was his life. His forever, his Dean, his shame, his sin and he couldn’t, wouldn’t share it with anyone, not even the very real, the very not Hell induced hallucination that was his actual brother in the other room because this was his and God knows that Sam was that fucked up that he would rather die than lose this. 

Even if it meant losing the real Dean.


End file.
